


honey, but when you're near me (i'm in the mood for love)

by schoolboys



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schoolboys/pseuds/schoolboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_the_Mood_for_Love">in the mood for love AU</a>) nico is jenson's new neighbour. they never have a real conversation until nico realises that their respective partners are having an affair. wishing to understand how the affair happened, nico and jenson draw closer to one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	honey, but when you're near me (i'm in the mood for love)

  


  
_Aquellos ojos verdes que yo nunca besaré_

(art by [](http://koinoyokans.livejournal.com/profile)[**koinoyokans**](http://koinoyokans.livejournal.com/) )

-

  
  
  
The first time Jenson notices that he has a new neighbour, he is sorting through his letters and finds one addressed to a Nico Rosberg living in the flat next door. Normally, he would put the letter into the box labelled _Returned Mail_ , but curiosity gets the better of him and he winds up in front of what is now Nico's flat, ringing the doorbell.  
  
It takes a while before a man with long blond hair answers the door. His hair is slicked back nicely, and he has a polo tee on along with dark jeans. 'Yes?'  
  
Jenson looks down at himself, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how he is wearing an old t-shirt with frayed edges and a pair of faded black slacks. 'This is yours, I think?' he asks, handing him the letter.  
  
'Oh! Yes, thank you.'  
  
'You—'  
  
'I—'  
  
'You first,' Jenson says.  
  
'You live next door?'  
  
'Yes. I'm Jenson, nice to meet you. You're Nico?'  
  
'Yeah,' Nico answers. He toys with the corner of his letter, and the snap of the envelope against his finger is particularly loud in the silence.  
  
'I'll see you around then,' Jenson says.  
  
'Thank you, Jenson.'  
  
'You're welcome.'  
  
  
  
  
The door opens, and Jenson looks up from his place on the sofa.  
  
'You're still awake?'  
  
'Yeah, I was waiting for you. You're back early.'  
  
'Took an earlier flight.'  
  
'Are you hungry?'  
  
'No, I ate before I came back.'  
  
Jenson gets up for a hug but by then, the moment for it has passed. So he stands where he is, calling out 'Welcome back.'  
  
'Go to sleep, Jenson.'  
  
'You too. Don't stay up too late.'  
  
  
  
  
The door opens, and light spills into Nico's room.  
  
'Ahh, were you sleeping?'  
  
'Not really. You're back. Welcome home.'  
  
'Sorry I'm late. Flight was delayed.'  
  
'It's okay. Do you want anything?'  
  
'No, I'm good. Go back to sleep.'  
  
The door closes, and Nico is left alone.  
  
  
  
  
The only interaction Jenson has with Nico is when they pass one another, Jenson returning to his flat while Nico leaves, or Jenson going to check his mailbox while Nico walks off to the lift, letters grasped in his palm. Each time they exchange nothing more than the barest of greetings, sometimes a nod of acknowledgement of each other's presence, and at others it is a smile and then they go their own way in the January chill.  
  
  
  
  
'I'll be home early tonight, what about you?'  
  
Jenson stares at the stack of files on his desk and sighs. 'It's going to be a long night for me.'  
  
'Oh. I'll get dinner on my own then.'  
  
'You should,' Jenson says, looking at his watch. Enough time to order takeout from the Chinese restaurant near his workplace before working on the rest of the documents. 'Don't wait up for me,' he says.  
  
There is no reply except for the dial tone of the telephone.  
  
  
  
  
'I left the translation of the first five chapters on your table.' Nico lingers in the doorway for a moment before walking into his editor's office.  
  
'That's fast.' His editor is putting on his jacket and he stops, turning to look at Nico. 'I'll look through it first thing tomorrow morning then we'll work something out afterwards.'  
  
'Okay.'  
  
'Anyway why don't you take the afternoon off? I'm leaving anyway so I'll lock up now and we can leave together. Go on a date tonight, do something.'  
  
Nico laughs nervously. 'It's okay. I still have a couple of forms to fill up and a document to type out so I'll leave as scheduled. Enjoy yourself.'  
  
'Okay then. Don't stay too late.'  
  
  
  
  
'Are you going out tonight?' Nico asks, pressing the telephone to his ear.  
  
'Yeah. You're not calling to tell me you'll be back early, are you?'  
  
'N-no, I'll be working late. Remember to bring your keys. I won't be home too early.'  
  
'I will.'  
  
  
  
  
The lift doors open and Jenson walks straight into Nico.  
  
'Are you okay?' Jenson asks, rubbing at his arm. He should have looked at where he was going, but he had been too busy checking the address on the letters he is about to send that he had not noticed that Nico had been standing outside, waiting for the lift.  
  
'I'm okay, ' Nico says. 'Can't say the same about my sandwich though.'  
  
'Your...' Jenson looks down at what Nico is holding in his hand — the familiar white and red paper bag of the cafe two blocks away. The umbrella he has on his arm is wet, and as Jenson had suspected, it is still raining outside. 'Well. I could call the sandwich doctor, if you like,' he jokes, cracking a smile.  
  
'And who would that be?'  
  
'Me, probably?'  
  
Nico laughs. 'It's okay, I can patch it up on my own.' He turns, stepping into the lift. 'I'll be going now. See you.'  
  
Jenson nods mutely, watching the lift doors close before exiting the building, heading to the cafe for dinner.  
  
  
  
  
Jenson returns to an open door to his flat. He frowns, looking at the suitcase by the door. 'You're leaving?'  
  
'Evening flight. I've already called a taxi.'  
  
'I thought you said it was an early morning flight.'  
  
'They messed up my booking. I'm leaving now.'  
  
'Oh. Do you need my help with your stuff?'  
  
'It's just a suitcase, Jenson. I'll be fine.'  
  
'Okay then. Well. Take care.'  
  
'You too.'  
  
  
  
  
'Leaving so early?' Nico asks, looking up from the newspapers he is reading.  
  
'Yeah.'  
  
'I thought we could have dinner together before you go—'  
  
'Nah, I don't want to be late.'  
  
'I'll get a taxi for you—'  
  
'It's okay, I've already booked one. It's waiting downstairs now. Besides, I have to pick my boss up before I leave so. I'll be leaving now.'  
  
'Ahh. Um. Take care.'  
  
Nico gets up for a hug, but by then it is too late and the suitcase is already out of the door.  
  
'I'll see you in two weeks.'  
  
'Okay. I'll walk you down?'  
  
'It's okay, I can manage.'  
  
'Love you,' Nico says, but the only answer he gets is the slam of the front door.  
  
  
  
  
This is not the first time Nico meets Jenson at the cafe round the corner, two blocks away from where they stay. Or rather, they do not meet: Jenson sits at his own table, going through his customary sandwich, tea and cake as he reads the day's newspaper while Nico stands at the counter, always at a loss for what to get. Nico is aware of his constant presence in his life, taking in details of Jenson's appearance when they take the lift together. He notes how Jenson is still wearing a winter coat even though it is now trench coat weather, he notes the knot in his black tie when he leaves for work in the morning, and he notes how the tie hangs loose around his neck when he returns, top button of his shirt undone.  
  
Jenson, in turn, notices the ring on Nico's finger and the woven leather bracelet around his wrist with the letters _LN_ inscribed on the silver clasp and he grows so used to seeing it that he is startled when he finds that Nico's bracelet is gone. But he does not ask, for they do not speak to one another beyond superficial greetings of _hello, how are you_ along the hallway.  
  
  
  
  
Nico expects to see Jenson at the door, but it is someone else who greets him instead. 'Hi,' he says, looking down at the slip of paper in his palm. 'The postman left this at the wrong door, I got it yesterday evening but today's a Saturday so...'  
  
There are two pairs of shoes laid neatly on the floor mat, and a door slams in the flat. One pair looks particularly familiar to Nico, but he tears his eyes away from it to look at the person standing before him.  
  
'It's for Jenson. Is he around?'  
  
'I'll give it to him. Is there anything else?'  
  
'No.' Nico's eyes flicker down to look at the shoes again. 'Thanks.'  
  
The door slams in his face.  
  
  
  
  
The door opens, but the one who opens it is not Nico. Jenson blinks, surprised.  
  
'Yes?'  
  
'Oh no, I was just wondering if something happened. Heard banging noises, thought something bad might've happened. Is everything alright?'  
  
It is a Sunday afternoon, there is the sound of the shower running in the background but the person in front of Jenson is fully clothed and Jenson swallows, feeling like he has just disturbed something.  
  
'I was just fixing something to the wall. Is there anything else?'  
  
'No, just wanted to check if everything was fine, that's all.'  
  
  
  
  
'Your partner came over today. He talked to me while you were in the shower _in my flat_. Have you told him?'  
  
Pause.  
  
'Don't come looking for me until you have.'  
  
  
  
  
There is the distinct sound of crying in the shower, and Jenson contemplates knocking on the door. He reaches out to do it, but he stops before he makes any contact, and he leaves for his room.  
  
  
  
  
When the lift breaks down, Nico and Jenson pass each other on the stairs and Nico apologises when Jenson's trench coat catches on the clasp of his briefcase. The fabric comes free soon enough and they part, Jenson ascending the stairs to his flat while Nico descends, heading out.  
  
For the rest of the night all Jenson can think of is how Nico had looked as Jenson had left him, with that air of sadness around him. He opens a can of beer, drinking slowly. Sadness is infectious, and Jenson aches for something he does not know of.  
  
  
  
  
Nico ends up at Jenson's table at the cafe on a Friday evening. The cafe is uncharacteristically crowded, and Nico looks almost afraid as he joins Jenson's table. The flicker of fear disappears when Jenson looks closer, fading into a strange sort of confidence that seems more like a fragile front, artfully arranged but held together so thinly that it would fall to pieces the moment Jenson pokes at it. But Jenson is not a cruel man, and as they head back to their respective flats (alone, as usual, Nico says, and Jenson laughs, all too aware of the bitterness he lets slip as he echoes the sentiment because really, he is still in a semblance of a relationship but right now it is as if he is merely sharing his flat with someone who is never there and Nico laughs politely in response and Jenson thinks of the bracelet that is back on Nico's wrist again like it had never been removed in the first place) all Jenson can think of by the time he gets into bed, staring at the ceiling unable to sleep, is how they are both broken without any way to fix things.  
  
  
  
  
Two weeks later, Jenson's sandwich lies abandoned on his plate after one bite. He is all too aware of Nico sitting in front of him, watching his every move as he picks at his salad. They sit together in the cafe, and the rain pours outside.  
  
'Actually, I asked you out today because I've got something I wanted to ask,' Nico says.  
  
'You could've called me.'  
  
'I don't have your number.'  
  
'Ahh. Sorry.' Jenson reaches for his briefcase, rummaging around for his name card holder. He fishes one out triumphantly, handing it to Nico. The edges are crumpled, but it is still presentable.  
  
'It's an office number.'  
  
'Is it?' Jenson frowns, taking a clean serviette from the dispenser on the table. He pulls out a pen from his pocket and he scribbles his number down quickly. 'Here.'  
  
'Thanks.'  
  
'So, you were saying...'  
  
'Oh. Yes. I wanted to ask, were you at home last Saturday?'  
  
'Why do you ask?'  
  
'Oh no, I went over to hand you a mail slip from the postman, it was registered mail and I thought you might've been around because there were two pairs of shoes but I...' Nico trails off. There is a strange sort of expression on his face, like he has said the wrong thing and now feels sick to the core because of it.  
  
'I was out,' Jenson says finally.  
  
Nico looks at his food, silent. He pushes a forkful of salad into his mouth, unwilling to look at Jenson.  
  
Jenson looks down at his sandwich and picks it up again half-heartedly. He takes a bite. The bread is cold in his mouth. He takes another bite anyway. All that fills the air is the sound of chatter coming from the other patrons in the cafe and the radio playing in the background.  
  
'Actually, I wanted to ask something too,' Jenson says, putting his sandwich down.  
  
'Yes?'  
  
'I heard banging sounds from your flat last week, Sunday afternoon, I think, but you didn't answer the door. I asked your...' Jenson trails off. He has seen another man with Nico, and from the way they look at each other, it does not take much for him to put two and two together. But he does not want to jump to any awkward conclusions, so he keeps his mouth shut, waiting for Nico to continue.  
  
'And?'  
  
'He said he was fixing something and. Well, I heard the shower running and I thought it might be you but...'  
  
'I wasn't at home then.'  
  
'I see.'  
  
'What a coincidence.'  
  
'A coincidence indeed.'  
  
Nico starts eating again. Jenson does not want the rest of his food, but the thought of leaving a half-eaten sandwich behind while Nico finishes his salad makes him uneasy. It is dinner after all, and even if he is not hungry now, he will be later if he does not eat now. So he lifts his food to his mouth and takes a bite.  
  
'Actually. My...' Nico trails off. 'The shoes at your flat. They looked like his.'  
  
'I've seen a ring like yours in my flat before,' Jenson says softly, looking at the ring on Nico's finger. Like his bracelet, it has the inscription of _LN_ on it. 'On my partner's dressing table. It was there one day and gone the next.'  
  
Nico looks down, avoiding Jenson's gaze. 'What are you trying to say?'  
  
Jenson sucks in a deep breath before exhaling slowly.  
  
  
  
  
'And here I was thinking that I was the only one who knew.'  
  
  
  
  
'How do you think they started?'  
  
  
  
  
'Does your partner mind if you go home this late?'  
  
'No, he's probably asleep by now. How about your husband?'  
  
'He doesn't really care, he's always late anyway.'  
  
They walk on, and Jenson stops. 'How about we go somewhere—'  
  
'He wouldn't say that,' Nico says, cutting Jenson off.  
  
'Then what would he say?'  
  
'He wouldn't say it.'  
  
Jenson looks at Nico, studying him under the light of the streetlamps and the softly falling rain. For some reason he looks so small in his trench coat, already wet on the shoulders because he had forgotten to bring an umbrella. 'Well. Someone has to say it eventually. If it's not him then...'  
  
They continue walking, and this time, it is Nico who speaks first.  
  
'Would your partner mind if you go home this late?'  
  
'No, he's probably asleep by now. How about your husband?'  
  
'He's always late anyway, he wouldn't care.'  
  
Nico looks up at Jenson and a smile plays at his lips and he moves closer. 'So...'  
  
Jenson looks at Nico expectantly but Nico stops, turning away.  
  
'I can't say it.'  
  
'I understand.' Jenson sticks his hands in his pockets, standing beside Nico. 'But well. What's happened has happened already, does who started it even matter anymore?' he asks, voice gentle.  
  
  
  
  
Three weeks later, they sit across one another at a high end restaurant, with Nat King Cole playing soft on the speakers in the background. Jenson still has Nico's number written on a serviette from the cafe in the front pocket of his briefcase, and Nico has not contacted him even though they have traded numbers. Instead, they are here because Nico had caught Jenson at the lift landing, and their awkward conversation had somehow segued into this.  
  
'Why don't you order?' Nico asks, handing Jenson the menu.  
  
Jenson looks at Nico, eyebrow raised. 'Why?'  
  
'I want to know what your partner likes,' Nico says, on impulse.  
  
Jenson frowns, studying the menu. He looks up at Nico moments later and asks, 'What would _he_ order?'  
  
  
  
  
When the food arrives, Jenson cuts his filet mignon into small pieces as Nico stares at the corner of his mouth because he does not know where else to look.  
  
'Am I doing this wrong?' Jenson asks, voice soft. Nico looks different in the lighting of the restaurant, there is a softness to his features and something in his eyes that draws people in and Jenson has to remind himself that this is not a date, this is not even them having each other's company for dinner so they do not have to eat alone for once (or maybe it is, but Jenson cannot be certain) because it is nothing more than a twisted re-enactment of sorts.  
  
'Um.' Nico bites the inside of his cheek. 'Is the food bad?'  
  
Jenson looks down at his plate and stabs at the next piece of meat he sees. A little too hard for comfort though, and the sound of his fork striking porcelain is unsettling.  
  
'Sorry,' Nico says hastily. 'I didn't—'  
  
'It's okay—'  
  
'No I—'  
  
'I said it's okay, don't apologise.'  
  
  
  
  
Jenson cuts at his filet mignon, conscious of how big the pieces are and how quickly he eats. It is their second time at the restaurant, and this time Nico looks more relaxed, and Jenson knows that he should not be feeling this tense, but he is wound up tight anyway.  
  
'Why did you call me at work today?' Nico asks.  
  
'I had nothing to do and I wanted to hear your voice, that's all.'  
  
Nico reaches for his glass of water, taking a sip. He parts his lips, like he is about to say something, but he stops, and picks up his knife and fork again.  
  
Jenson looks at him, and he wonders what he is thinking.  
  
  
  
  
  
It is late. There is hardly anyone out on the streets, and they are returning from their third trip to the restaurant. Outside, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, looking beautiful in the night. Nico sits with Jenson in the backseat of a taxi, and all is silent until Nico asks 'Why didn't you call me?'  
  
'Did you want me to?' Jenson asks, voice teasing.  
  
'Ahh no, I was… I was just wondering, that's all.'  
  
'I see.'  
  
Jenson looks down and he reaches for Nico's hand, but Nico pulls his hand away.  
  
  
  
  
Jenson is in the midst of doing his laundry, shirtless, and he jumps when the doorbell rings, startled. He walks over to the door, peering into the peephole and standing outside his door is Nico, clad in an apron.  
  
When Jenson opens the door, Nico's eyes widen just a little, as if he had been shocked by Jenson's state of undress. But it disappears soon enough, and he looks apologetic as he asks 'Do you happen to have any sugar?'  
  
Nico has flour on his cheek and Jenson cannot help but stare at the smear of white on his skin.  
  
'Is something wrong?'  
  
'No,' Jenson says, licking his lips. 'You have flour on your cheek.' He reaches out, but halfway through he thinks better of it and touches his own cheek instead. 'Here.'  
  
Nico frowns, touching his cheek self-consciously, rubbing at it. 'Is it still there?'  
  
Jenson shakes his head. They stay like this for a while, lingering awkwardly in the doorway before Jenson remembers the purpose of Nico's visit. 'Right, sugar. Hang on. Do you want to come in?'  
  
'It's okay, I'll wait here.'  
  
Jenson returns with the sugar soon enough, and when he hands the cup to Nico their fingers brush briefly, and Nico pulls his hand away so quickly, as if he had just been burnt.  
  
'Thanks,' Nico says. He does not look at Jenson.  
  
'No problem,' Jenson says. He ends up staring at Nico's retreating figure, feeling something rise at the back of his throat.  
  
  
  
  
Jenson does not expect Nico to show up at his door again the next day.  
  
'Do you like cake?' Nico asks. 'Wait no, you _love_ cake,' he continues, looking flustered.  
  
'I do,' Jenson says slowly. 'Why?'  
  
'I made extra. Here. For you.' Nico shoves the box into Jenson's arms.  
  
'Nico?'  
  
Nico's eyes flicker downward momentarily before he looks up, straight at Jenson. 'I'm sorry. He didn't want it. I can't eat it on my own. If you don't want it, feel free to throw it away.'  
  
'Wait,' Jenson says, catching Nico's arm. 'It's okay. I'll take it. Why waste a perfectly good cake?' He smiles, hoping to elicit a smile from Nico too but all he gets is a sigh. 'Well. At least you tried.'  
  
'I shouldn't have. Anyway I'll be going now,' Nico says, pulling his arm free from Jenson's grasp.  
  
'Thank you for the cake,' Jenson says, calling after Nico, and Nico waves in reply as he heads back to his flat.  
  
Jenson shuts the door behind him, and he opens the box, looking at the cake inside. It is beautiful, a chocolate cake with rich chocolate icing and when he eats it, all he can think of is how warm Nico's skin was under his fingertips and it unsettles him.  
  
  
  
  
'I believe this postcard's yours,' Jenson says, handing Nico a card postmarked Hong Kong.  
  
'Thanks.' Nico takes the card from Jenson, reading it. 'The postman mixes our address up really often.'  
  
'Yeah, it happened with the previous owner of your flat too.' Jenson does not budge from his position in the doorway, and Nico looks at him quizzically.  
  
'Is there something else?'  
  
Jenson looks at the card in Nico's hand, then back at Nico again. 'Well, my partner's in Hong Kong too,' he says, shrugging.  
  
'For how long?'  
  
'I don't know.'  
  
Nico looks at the postcard again, reading it. It is from a hotel, and there is nothing more than a perfunctory greeting and a note saying _I'll have to extend my trip for two weeks_. He swallows hard.  
  
'What do you think they're doing now?'  
  
  
  
  
Nico sits at the corner of the bed in the dingy room they have rented in the motel. Jenson had booked the room, had gone up first, and Nico had gone up later, knocking on the door. Now they sit across each other, with Jenson sitting at the chair by the tiny desk near the window, and they do not speak until Nico gets up, walking towards Jenson.  
  
'Let's go,' he says, and he reaches for Jenson's hand.  
  
Jenson looks up at him, holding his gaze, and that is when Nico lets go.  
  
  
  
  
'Are you alright?' Jenson asks later on. They are on their way back to their flats in a taxi, and Nico sits close to the window, putting as much distance as he can between him and Jenson.  
  
'I'm fine,' Nico answers. He turns and looks out of the window.  
  
'Could you stop just up ahead?' Nico asks, addressing the taxi driver.  
  
'What are you doing?'  
  
'I'll alight here.'  
  
Nico is avoiding him. So Jenson says 'No, I'll alight. I just remembered that I have something to do anyway.'  
  
The taxi rolls to a stop and Jenson presses a couple of notes into Nico's hand. Nico opens his mouth to protest, but Jenson shakes his head, getting out of the taxi, slamming the door shut.  
  
  
  
  
It rains when Jenson is four blocks away from his flat.  
  
There is barely any place to take shelter, and as Jenson runs back to his flat, all he can think of is _thank goodness I let Nico take the taxi back_.  
  
(But this relief is unwelcome, because when Jenson finally stumbles in, slamming the door shut behind him, cold and shivering, he wonders if he is starting to care too much)  
  
  
  
  
Nico answers the door and is greeted by Jenson wrapped in a scarf, wearing a knitted jumper. 'Are you alright?'  
  
Jenson nods and he is about to answer when he sneezes, turning away from Nico.  
  
'Bless you,' Nico says automatically. It had been raining last night, and Jenson had alighted from the taxi without an umbrella. Could it be?  
  
'Sorry about that,' Jenson says, wincing. 'I was just wondering if you'd be going down to the cafe tonight and if you could grab a sandwich for me, but if it's too much of a hassle I'll order Thai takeout or something—'  
  
'You're having a cold and you're thinking of getting Thai takeout?'  
  
'It's the only restaurant that'll deliver here.'  
  
'You're crazy.'  
  
'Never said I wasn't,' Jenson says, cracking a smile and Nico sighs.  
  
'You're not getting a sandwich. _Or_ Thai takeout.'  
  
'Now there's no need for you to control my food choices, I know they're limited already—'  
  
'Come in. I'll make something for you,' Nico says, stepping aside.  
  
'Wait. Really?'  
  
'You got caught in the rain because of me,' Nico says bluntly. 'And I'm not heartless, but I will be and I'll shut the door in your face if you don't come in in the next few seconds.'  
  
'Anything the chef says,' Jenson teases, kicking off his shoes and getting in.  
  
He does not fail to notice how Nico's cheek flush pink as he walks past, and Nico turns away soon enough to close the door.  
  
  
  
  
'Canned soup and pasta,' Jenson says, spooning mouthfuls of chicken alphabet soup into his mouth.  
  
'If you're going to criticise my cooking—'  
  
'I wasn't going to, _O Great Chef_.'  
  
Nico sputters, almost choking on his soup and Jenson nearly snorts into his bowl.  
  
'Ungrateful brat,' Nico says, wrinkling his nose at Jenson. 'Sorry for not having anything much in the fridge since there's usually no one to cook for other than myself.'  
  
'It's the same for me, actually.' Jenson stops, putting his spoon down. 'That's why I asked if you were going to get food. The only edible thing I have in my kitchen is some breakfast cereal I wouldn't want to touch. So thank you, for this. At least you have canned soup. And pasta,' Jenson adds, grinning. 'What would I do without you, really.'  
  
'I wonder. Hmm. Starve, maybe?'  
  
Jenson laughs. 'Yeah, I probably would. Or I'd order takeout.'  
  
'You're an idiot,' Nico says. He looks at Jenson, eyes searching, and Jenson tilts his head to one side questioningly. 'Sorry about yesterday,' he says finally.  
  
'I've eaten your magical food,' Jenson says. It is just simple tomato pasta, made with canned tomatoes, no less, but somehow it tastes like the most delicious meal he has ever had. 'What are you talking about? I've forgotten everything.'  
  
Nico laughs, swatting at Jenson's hand playfully, and Jenson grins.  
  
  
  
  
After dinner, Jenson offers to help with the dishes, but Nico makes him rest on the sofa.  
  
'I'll get you some Panadol and then I'll walk you back to your flat, okay?'  
  
'I live next door, not three blocks away, I'll be fine.'  
  
'Don't argue. You're sick.' Nico leans in and presses his hand to Jenson's forehead. 'You're burning up. Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?' he asks, brow furrowed. There is a quiver in his voice that makes Jenson uncomfortable, and all Jenson wants to do is to take it away.  
  
'I'll be fine,' Jenson repeats, patting Nico's shoulder. 'Don't worry about me. I've got your magic pills too now,' he says, looking at the tab of Panadol in his palm.  
  
Nico laughs weakly, because really, how can he argue?  
  
  
  
  
Nico stands in the doorway of Jenson's flat afterwards, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. 'Rest well,' he says, voice soft. 'Take care.'  
  
'I will,' Jenson answers. 'Goodnight, Nico.'  
  
'Goodnight.'  
  
  
  
  
Translating had gone smoothly today, and with four additional chapters done Nico finds himself with the afternoon off so he ends up at Asda, buying ingredients to make fresh chicken soup. Yesterday's canned soup had been far too salty, and he is confident of his capability to make something better so here he is, fussing about in the kitchen. He hums to himself as he chops up the carrots and onions, putting them into the pot along with the chicken and celery. It has been a while since he has cooked anything proper for himself and someone else, and he ends up scalding his hand as he strains the broth. But still, it is alright, he thinks, putting his hand underneath the cold water from the tap. Something about this makes him feel slightly better about himself, having something to do for someone else for once.  
  
Nico pours the soup into a thermal flask, all ready to bring it over to Jenson's flat when he hears voices at the door. He stops, lingering in his doorway, hand still on the doorknob, uncertain.  
  
'Jenson, I've got three suitcases downstairs and I need you to bring these in!'  
  
'Okay, coming!'  
  
Nico's hand falls from the doorknob. That night, he finishes the soup on his own.  
  
  
  
  
'Hey!'  
  
Nico looks up sharply, but he does not recognise anyone around him.  
  
'Nico!'  
  
It is Jenson. He is right up ahead, at the traffic junction, briefcase in his hand. He looks more energetic tonight, for some reason. Much better than last week. Perhaps it is because he has already recovered from his cold. Or maybe it is because it is June, and warmth is finally returning to London.  
  
'Hey,' Nico says, stopping beside him as they wait for the traffic light to turn green. 'What are you doing here?'  
  
'Was about to get dinner. Do you want to join me?'  
  
'No,' Nico says, a little too hastily. He winces. 'It's fine.'  
  
'Long day at work?'  
  
'No, I had the afternoon off, so I went to watch a film.'  
  
'Ahh. Was it any good?'  
  
'It was alright.'  
  
The traffic light turns green, and they cross the road.  
  
'I used to like watching films,' Jenson says.  
  
'You used to like a lot of things,' Nico teases, and Jenson laughs.  
  
'Yeah. Well. When I was alone it was easier, I guess. Everything was for myself, I could do whatever I wanted. But after I got attached... You can't decide everything on your own any more.'  
  
'Mm.'  
  
'Sometimes I wonder how it would be like if I hadn't gotten attached so early,' Jenson says wistfully. 'Have you ever thought about it?'  
  
'Maybe I'll be happier,' Nico says softly. He looks up at the sky, seeking out the stars. 'I never thought that marriage would be this complicated. I thought that if you're both alright on your own, it'll all be fine. But it turns out that when two people are together, sometimes just being alright on your own isn't enough.'  
  
Jenson hums, nodding as they walk along. 'Well. Don't think too much about it? He'll be back soon, didn't the postcard say next week?'  
  
Nico swallows hard. 'And you? You're alright?'  
  
'Actually, I'm just like you,' Jenson says quietly. 'It's just. I just don't want to think about it.'  
  
  
  
  
Jenson sits on his bed, back pressed against the headboard, head against the wall. He looks up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.  
  
  
  
  
Nico sits on his bed, back pressed against the headboard, head against the wall. The bed is meant for two, but nowadays there is only Nico and no one else.  
  
(But there _is_ someone else, but Nico does not want to think about it)  
  
  
  
  
The wall is all that separates the two of them.  
  
  
  
  
'One whole cake? What's the occasion?'  
  
Nico jumps.  
  
'Woah, you alright there? Didn't mean to startle you,' Jenson says. They are standing in front of the cake display in the cafe, and Nico is about to make payment.  
  
'I'm fine,' Nico says. He hands a couple of notes to the cashier, who hands over the cake and his receipt.  
  
'So, what's the occasion? Anniversary? Promotion at work?'  
  
'I work as a translator, Jenson.'  
  
'Birthday?'  
  
Nico looks at him, silent.  
  
'Really? It's your birthday?'  
  
Nico fidgets under Jenson's scrutiny. 'What is it to you.'  
  
'We should celebrate.'  
  
'We?'  
  
'Yeah, _we_. Come on, you're not going to finish the entire cake on your own, are you?'  
  
'I could if I wanted to.'  
  
Jenson's eyes narrow. 'You wouldn't.'  
  
'I would,' Nico counters.  
  
'Just to deny me of cake?'  
  
'When you put it that way...'  
  
'I've got beer in my fridge... Think I have a bag of crisps too and maybe some chocolate? I'm pretty sure we can put together some sort of celebration for you.'  
  
'You don't have to—'  
  
'Come on,' Jenson grips Nico's shoulder, steering him out of the cafe. 'It's your birthday.'  
  
Nico looks up at him, mouth dry.  
  
  
  
  
'No friends, no family. Really?'  
  
'It's not like that,' Nico says with a sigh. 'Most of them are in Germany.'  
  
'Then why are you here in London?'  
  
'Did my degree here, tried to figure out what I wanted and... You know the rest.'  
  
'But _no friends_?'  
  
'Shut up,' Nico says, nudging Jenson in the ribs. 'I _do_ have friends but it's a weekday and—'  
  
'Not like that stops people from going drinking in the evening—'  
  
'I've got work to do tomorrow,' Nico says in mock exasperation and Jenson laughs.  
  
'Excuses,' Jenson says, waving a hand. Nico laughs when a taxi rolls to a stop for them and he runs forward to avoid it, making Jenson chase after him.  
  
  
  
  
In the lift, Nico looks straight ahead, avoiding Jenson's gaze. 'At the beginning of the year, I thought I wouldn't be alone today. And I kept thinking I wouldn't be, until...'  
  
'I know,' Jenson says.  
  
The lift doors open.  
  
  
  
  
They wind up drunk on Jenson's sofa, both of them on their third can of beer. They had polished off the cake a long time ago, along with the bag of cheese and onion crisps and Nico is sprawled out most unceremoniously, cheek pressed against the armrest of the sofa, one arm thrown over barely holding on to his can of beer.  
  
'This is the worst birthday ever,' Nico says, hiccupping as he lifts his can of beer to his lips. 'It's so, so bad.'  
  
'So you're saying that I'm a lousy host?' Jenson says, kicking Nico's shin.  
  
'Maybe,' Nico says. There is nothing left in his can, and he lets it drop to the floor. 'Come on,' he says, getting up, pulling Jenson to his feet. 'Dance with me.'  
  
'You're kidding,' Jenson groans, but he lets Nico pull him up anyway.  
  
Nico stumbles forward, flicking Jenson's record player on and Jenson is almost surprised when the music starts.  
  
'Wow,' Nico says, breathless, looking at Jenson. His cheeks are flushed and it has spread to his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt are open and he trips over his feet, landing in Jenson's arms.  
  
'You're drunk,' Jenson says, like it is a revelation and Nico laughs.  
  
'Of course I am,' Nico says, nodding, gripping at Jenson's arm to steady himself. 'Come on, Jenson. Dance with me.'  
  
 _A million lights are dancing and there you are, a shooting star_ , Olivia Newton-John sings over the speakers. _An everlasting world and you're here with me, eternally_.  
  
Jenson moves to the beat along with Nico, but all he can think of is how Nico's green eyes shine so brightly in the light of his living room, dancing like there is no tomorrow.  
  
  
  
  
It is one in the morning and the music is turned down soft in Jenson's flat. They should not be standing so close, Nico's hands should not be on Jenson's shoulders and Jenson's hands should not be on Nico's waist, but they sway to the music as Olivia Newton-John and Cliff Richard sing _Suddenly, I don't need the answers 'cause I, I'm ready to take all my chances with you_.  
  
The song ends, and the night is still. Nico looks up at Jenson, eyes searching. Jenson holds his gaze, unmoving.  
  
'I should go,' Nico says finally, pulling away. 'It's late.'  
  
'Yeah,' Jenson says, nodding. 'It's late,' he echoes, looking at the clock on the wall.  
  
'Thank you for tonight,' Nico says, gathering his things.  
  
'No problem,' Jenson says. He wants to pull Nico into a hug, but it hardly feels appropriate, so he keeps his distance, showing Nico to the door. 'Goodnight, Nico. Happy birthday.'  
  
Nico smiles. He looks tired, but the glow is still there in his eyes and Jenson thinks that it suits him. 'Thanks. Goodnight, Jenson.'  
  
  
  
  
In the background, Olivia Newton-John continues singing, _I'm outta my head, hopelessly devoted to you, hopelessly devoted to you_...  
  
  
  
  
Jenson sits across Nico, cutting at his filet mignon. He remembers Nico's reaction upon realising how slow he had been eating during their first dinner here, but his hands do not cooperate with his head. He looks at Nico, framed in the soft lighting of the restaurant, and a small smile plays at Nico's lips as he returns Jenson's gaze.  
  
'Not hungry?'  
  
'No.' Jenson shakes his head. 'It's just that it's so good that I have to eat slowly to savour it,' he says, and Nico laughs.  
  
'Excuses,' Nico says, mimicking Jenson and Jenson nearly chokes on his food.  
  
'You're good,' Jenson says after downing an entire glass of water, and Nico grins.  
  
  
  
  
Later on, the waiter brings them their dessert and coffee. Nico stirs sugar and milk into his coffee as Jenson does the same in silence.  
  
'Jenson?'  
  
'Hmm?'  
  
'Why do you keep doing this?'  
  
Jenson looks up at Nico, stunned.  
  
'I mean, why are we still doing this?'  
  
There are many answers Jenson can give Nico. _Because I like spending time with you_ , is what he wants to say. Instead, he asks 'Isn't it better to have dinner together than to have it alone?'  
  
'I guess,' Nico says. His expression falls, just a little, then his smile is back on again. 'Why here though?'  
  
'The food tastes good?'  
  
Nico laughs. 'Yeah, it does,' he says, taking a spoonful of his tiramisu.  
  
  
  
  
Nico has Jenson's name card in his hand, pacing up and down in his flat as he waits for someone to answer the phone. Jenson had been nowhere in sight for the past few days, and his absence has been disconcerting, to say the least.  
  
'I'm looking for Mr. Button.'  
  
'I'm afraid he's not here at the moment.'  
  
'Will he be back later?'  
  
'I'm not too sure. He hasn't come in for a few days now.'  
  
'Where can I reach him then?'  
  
'It appears that... He has been... Ahh yes, he's been hospitalised and he won't be in for a couple of days. Would you like to leave a message?'  
  
'No, it's okay. Thank you.'  
  
'You're welcome.'  
  
  
  
  
Nico jumps when the phone rings in his cubicle at work. No one ever calls. Unless...  
  
'Hello?'  
  
'Heard you called.'  
  
It is Jenson. His voice is smooth over the telephone. Nico feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, and he leans back in his seat, closing his eyes.  
  
'Yeah, I did. Where are you?'  
  
  
  
  
'I didn't think you'd come,' Jenson says, looking at Nico.  
  
'I thought I shouldn't, you'd have your family around and everything,' Nico answers, sitting beside Jenson's bed. They are in a hospital ward, and Nico feels awkward coming in empty handed, having rushed here straight after work.  
  
'My mum visited on the first day. Then she went back, my sisters came to see me on the second day and well, life goes on.'  
  
'I see.' Nico's eyes stray to the fruit basket sitting by Jenson's bedside. 'Your friends?'  
  
'No need to make an announcement. Just a bad fall, that's all. I'll get by.'  
  
'What happened?'  
  
'Was changing the light bulb in the kitchen, lost my balance and well, here I am.'  
  
Nico looks at Jenson's leg, then at Jenson again. 'So. Um. Your partner...'  
  
'Gone,' Jenson says, but there is no trace of bitterness in his voice. 'Took me to the hospital and left on the first flight out this morning to Hong Kong. Gone for one whole month. Fantastic.'  
  
Nico bites the inside of his cheek, not knowing what to say. They sit in silence for a while, not quite looking at one another.  
  
'Visiting hours will be over soon,' Jenson says. Outside the light is fading, and Nico looks down at his hands.  
  
'I'll be going then,' Nico says. 'Take care. You look miserable.'  
  
'Have you seen what I get to eat here, that's _torture_.' Jenson wrinkles his nose, and Nico laughs.  
  
'I'll see what I can do about that tomorrow,' Nico says, getting up.  
  
'You're going to be my personal nurse? To what do I owe the honour—'  
  
'Don't flatter yourself, you're just going to be a guinea pig for whatever I whip up—'  
  
'You wound my fragile heart, how cruel,' Jenson says, but there is a grin on his face and Nico shakes his head. 'Jokes aside. Well. Thank you. You don't have to come by if you're busy.'  
  
'It's okay. Work has been going smoothly so I have quite a bit of free time on my hands.'  
  
'I see.' Jenson licks his lips, looking down at his leg, held up in a cast.  
  
The announcement that visiting hours are now over comes on, and Nico lingers, standing by Jenson's bedside.  
  
'You should go.' Jenson says. 'He's back already, isn't he?'  
  
'No, he left for Hong Kong two days ago.' Nico pauses. 'We won't be like them,' he says, but his voice lacks conviction.  
  
  
  
  
It is Nico who takes Jenson home upon Jenson's discharge from the hospital.  
  
'You didn't have to come,' Jenson says as Nico helps him into the taxi.  
  
'Who would you have called?' Nico rolls his eyes and Jenson laughs.  
  
'Ghostbusters,' Jenson says, and Nico snorts. Jenson leans in, bumping his shoulder against Nico's, and Nico smiles.  
  
  
  
  
'So this is the light bulb that got the better of Jenson Button,' Nico says, screwing in the new light bulb in Jenson's kitchen.  
  
'It might get the better of you too, since I won't be able to catch you if you fall,' Jenson teases, and Nico snorts.  
  
'I don't need you to catch me,' Nico says, climbing down the ladder.  
  
'No, you _want_ me to catch you,' Jenson says. When Nico stares at him blankly, he gestures to his leg. 'Don't want to end up like me now, do you?'  
  
Nico sighs. 'Try switching the light on. Does it work?'  
  
The light comes on, but Nico is not looking at it. Instead he is looking at Jenson, at the light in Jenson's eyes as he turns to Nico and smiles.  
  
  
  
  
Nico comes over to Jenson's flat more often, with bags of groceries in his arms. Jenson is surprised, but he welcomes Nico's presence. Nico says that it is better to cook here, and to share his food with Jenson rather than eating alone, and Jenson looks on from the kitchen counter as Nico slices mushrooms, asking what happened to ordering takeout. Nico turns around, telling him to get out unless he is helping to cook, and Jenson laughs, saying that this is his flat and he will do as he pleases, to which Nico glares at him. But there is no heat behind it, and by the time they sit at the dining table, with a sheen of perspiration on Nico's forehead as he sets their plates down, something stirs inside Jenson as he watches Nico pick up his fork to eat.  
  
And it happens again and again and again, and it is frightening when one Thursday evening, as Nico fusses about, putting a tray of lasagna into the oven, Jenson finds himself thinking that Nico looks like he belongs here, in Jenson's apron, in Jenson's kitchen.  
  
  
  
  
When Jenson's leg gets better, he winds up in the kitchen next to Nico, spreading toffee over a biscuit base as Nico sears a dory fillet in the pan. October approaches and outside, the rain falls steadily.  
  
'What are you making?' Nico asks, peering at the dish Jenson has in front of him. Jenson had been boiling tins of condensed milk and had refused to answer Nico's questions earlier on, and now Jenson's grin is impossibly wide as he places banana slices over the toffee.  
  
'It's a surprise,' Jenson says, waving his hand at Nico, shooing him away. 'Go on, you're making the entrée, aren't you?'  
  
  
  
  
'Banoffee pie,' Nico says, taking a spoonful of the dessert into his mouth. 'It's delicious.'  
  
'Thought you'd think so,' Jenson says.  
  
'It's sweet,' Nico continues, in between mouthfuls. 'Really sweet.'  
  
'Just like you.'  
  
'I'm sorry?'  
  
'I take it back. You're not sweet at all.'  
  
Nico looks at Jenson, eyes narrowing, and for a moment Jenson wonders if he had gone too far. But when Nico follows up, saying 'You're doing the dishes tonight,' lower lip sticking out in a pout, Jenson laughs, knowing that everything is alright.  
  
  
  
  
But the uneasy feeling still lingers on as Jenson washes up, putting the dishes on the stand. He is alone now, Nico had left earlier, saying that he should retire for the night because it had been a long day for him at work.  
  
  
  
  
There is still some leftover banoffee pie, and when Jenson wakes up in the middle of the night, he takes it out and eats it, alone at the dining table. With each mouthful, all he can think of is Nico, eyes shining, and he wonders if it could have been tears.  
  
  
  
  
October rolls around, and Jenson takes to going to the cafe with Nico again for dinner. The first time they go back the cashier looks at the both of them and says 'You're back together again!'  
  
'I'm sorry?' Nico blinks, puzzled.  
  
'Ah no, you always came in together for a while and then you stopped,' she says, looking at Jenson. 'But you're here now!'  
  
'Oh,' Jenson says. 'Had a bad fall, wasn't up to walking for quite a while.'  
  
'Oh no! Are you alright now?'  
  
'Much better. Why, what were you thinking?'  
  
'Oh no, I thought you'd fallen out or something,' she says. 'You always came in alone, then you started sitting together and then... Sorry, I think I've said too much. You were going to order?' she asks, turning to Nico.  
  
'It's okay,' Jenson says, smiling. 'We're good, thanks for asking.'  
  
  
  
  
Throughout the meal, conversation is minimal. Nico eats quickly, and he hurries ahead of Jenson, heading back to his flat.  
  
  
  
  
'Answer me honestly. Are you with someone else.'  
  
'Are you crazy? Who told you that?'  
  
'Don't bother about that. Just answer my question.'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
Slap.  
  
Jenson stares at Nico, dazed. He puts his fork down, touching his cheek gingerly. 'Wow. He just told he was cheating and... That slap was, uh, very light.'  
  
'I didn't think the answer would come that quickly,' Nico says softly, avoiding Jenson's gaze. It is two weeks after their last visit to the cafe and they sit together in Jenson's flat, eating dinner.  
  
'Well. We'll try again then?'  
  
'Answer me honestly. Are you with someone else?'  
  
'Are you crazy? Who told you that?'  
  
'Don't bother about that. Just answer my question.'  
  
'No.'  
  
'Don't lie to me. Are you with someone else?'  
  
Pause.  
  
'Yes.'  
  
Nico looks at Jenson, frozen momentarily before going back to his food.  
  
Jenson stops chewing. 'Are you alright?'  
  
Nico puts his fork down. 'I didn't think it would hurt this much,' he says, looking down. 'I should go.' He gets up quickly, causing the chair to fall back behind him and flustered, he turns to pick it up again.  
  
'Nico,' Jenson says, grabbing Nico's arm. 'Hey. It's not real. Even if it's real, he wouldn't tell you about it right?'  
  
'I don't know,' Nico answers. He shakes his arm free of Jenson's grasp and heads for the door. 'I'm sorry.'  
  
  
  
  
The water pours overhead and it burns, scalding against Nico's skin. Tears run down his cheeks, and he aches inside, thinking of Jenson's fingers on his arm.  
  
  
  
  
Nico stops coming over when his husband returns from Hong Kong. Jenson finds himself fixing sandwiches to take to work the next day with the groceries Nico leaves behind, and when he goes to the cafe for dinner, Nico is nowhere in sight.  
  
  
  
  
The doorbell rings and Jenson opens it too quickly, without looking through the peephole.  
  
It is not Nico.  
  
'That was fast.'  
  
'You're back.'  
  
'Yeah.'  
  
'Good trip?' Jenson takes a suitcase, hauling it into the flat.  
  
'Was alright. I'll be going again this weekend.'  
  
'Okay.'  
  
  
  
  
When the lift doors open, Jenson finds his heart sinking when there is no one inside.  
  
For some reason he finds himself expecting to see Nico, but he never does even though Nico lives next door.  
  
  
  
  
'Nico?'  
  
Nico looks up, and his editor stands by his cubicle, a folder in hand.  
  
'These chapters are great. Just a couple of minor edits and then we can move on.'  
  
'Thanks,' Nico says, taking the folder.  
  
His editor lingers, and Nico frowns.  
  
'There was someone looking for you today, when you were out. A Mr. Button, the memo's there, with your file.'  
  
Nico looks down at the folder, and there it is, Jenson's number written in his editor's neat handwriting. 'Thanks,' he says again, mouth dry.  
  
  
  
  
Jenson does not expect to find Nico at the taxi stand a block away from the cafe, waiting for the rain to stop. Nico clutches at his briefcase, and he shivers in the November cold.  
  
'You had a lot of work today?' Jenson asks. He is completely soaked, having decided to make a run for it while it was still drizzling, but it had soon proved to be a bad decision.  
  
'Yeah,' Nico says. He looks down at the ground, watching as rain hits the road in front of them. They stand together, with the rain in the background as a lone car passes by. 'Were you looking for me?'  
  
'Ahh, yeah. Wanted to tell you that I'll be leaving soon.'  
  
'Leaving?'  
  
'Yeah.'  
  
'Where will you be going?'  
  
'France. My company's posting me there.'  
  
'How long will you be leaving for?'  
  
'I don't know. I'll see.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
'I wanted a change of environment, I guess.' Jenson says. 'So I wouldn't have to worry about people talking behind my back.'  
  
'If we know that there's nothing between us then it's all okay, isn't it?'  
  
'At first I thought it would be fine. So I wasn't afraid of what people would say. I thought I wouldn't end up like them. But the truth is, I did.' Jenson pauses. 'I know you won't leave your husband. I want to walk away for a bit.'  
  
Nico is silent. 'I never thought that you would really fall for me.'  
  
'Neither did I.' Jenson looks up. 'At that time I wanted to know how they started. Now I know. It turns out that some things just happen and you can't control it. I thought I would be fine.' He turns, facing Nico directly. 'But I started wondering when would your husband return, and I started thinking that it'll be better if he didn't return. I know it's wrong. Could you do me a favour?'  
  
'What favour?'  
  
'I want to be mentally prepared for this.'  
  
Nico looks at Jenson expectantly, and the rain continues falling.  
  
  
  
  
The rain stops, and Nico walks beside Jenson.  
  
'Don't look for me ever again,' Nico says, breaking the silence.  
  
'Your husband has returned?'  
  
'I'm useless, aren't I.'  
  
'No.' Jenson looks at Nico, and there is a smile on his face. His eyes are shining in the dim light. 'I won't look for you any more. Look after your husband well.' He reaches for Nico's hand, squeezing briefly before pulling away.  
  
  
  
  
'It wasn't real,' Jenson says, putting his arm around Nico's shoulders. They stand together in the lift and Nico looks away, resolutely avoiding Jenson's gaze but he leans into Jenson's touch, pressing close. 'I'm still here. It's fine.'  
  
  
  
  
'I don't want to go back tonight,' Nico says, voice soft. They are in a taxi, safe from the winds of November and Nico leans in to rest his head on Jenson's shoulder. His cheek presses against the material of Jenson's coat, and there is something comforting about it.  
  
Jenson reaches for Nico's hand, and Nico's fingers curl around Jenson's.  
  
  
  
  
The phone rings, and Nico answers.  
  
'If I have another ticket, would you leave with me?'  
  
  
  
  
Jenson waits.  
  
Time passes, and still, Nico does not arrive.  
  
He gets up, switches the lights off, and leaves his flat for the last time.  
  
  
  
  
Nico rushes back, running into the lift, hastily pressing the button for the doors to close.  
  
  
  
  
Jenson exits from the other lift.  
  
  
  
  
Nico knocks on the door to Jenson's flat, but there is no answer.  
  
  
  
  
Jenson drags his suitcase behind him, footsteps heavy as he heads for the check-in counter at Heathrow.  
  
  
  
  
Nico ends up in his flat, pressing the phone to his ear, waiting for Jenson to pick up the phone.  
  
The dial tone goes on and on and on.  
  
Nico puts down the phone eventually. He curls up beside the telephone, shoulders shaking as the tears start to fall.  
  
  
  
  
'You're here?'  
  
Jenson looks up, and the receptionist is standing in the doorway to his office with a memo in her hand. 'Yes?'  
  
'Someone came here looking for you today.'  
  
'Who was it?'  
  
'I don't know. He didn't leave his name. I'm sorry, I thought you weren't here because I dialled your extension and there was no answer and I didn't see you this morning so... He just left.'  
  
'How did he look like?'  
  
'Tall. Long blond hair, slicked back.'  
  
It has been four months, and now this. Jenson gets up, almost knocking his mug over and runs out of the door.  
  
  
  
  
There is no one familiar on the streets, and February in Paris is far too cold for Jenson to be running about without his coat.  
  
  
  
  
Jenson ends up at a restaurant, and he has a filet mignon in front of him but it is not the same. The lights are turned down and Nat King Cole plays on the speakers, and all Jenson can think of is London, half a year ago.  
  
 _Aquellos ojos verdes que yo nunca besaré_ , Nat King Cole croons, and Jenson's knowledge of Spanish is rudimentary at best but he knows this line and when he closes his eyes he sees Nico, sitting right across him again, looking beautiful framed in soft light and he feels a lump in his throat.  


**Author's Note:**

>  _aquellos ojos verdes que yo nunca besaré_ translates to 'those green eyes that i will never kiss'. beta by J, E, N, S and M.


End file.
